


Boom

by cockabeetle, Kymopoleia



Category: Batman Beyond, DCU
Genre: M/M, Other, dana is also queer, i blame kym, so many feelings, there are things happening, tim is queer and sad, we are so far from being done with this thing, why do we start so many projects
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:26:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3396941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cockabeetle/pseuds/cockabeetle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kymopoleia/pseuds/Kymopoleia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim glances at the older Bruce, and then at the oddly cape-less Batman. His voice is higher than Tim would expect for Batman. He stands up slowly, cape falling to conceal most of him anyway. "...Red Robin."</p><p>Terry doesn't like the cape. The name is weird. The movements are too slow, too calculated, too Bruce. "How did you make it to the heart of the cave without me noticing?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in which there's an explosion and Tim is confused.

Tim had been on a mission, in Germany, with Kon and Cassie. He remembers an explosion, and a ringing in his ears, and when he opened his eyes he was crouched defensively in the Batcave. But it wasn't exactly the cave he knew, the arrangement was off, and the man at the Batcomputer was old. Older than Alfred looked usually, but he had Bruce's broad shoulders and jawline, and Tim just knew.

Terry had been taking his suit off for the night when there'd been an echoed explosion and a grunt. He quickly pulls it back on, pulling out a batarang. There's someone in a red costume crouched in the batcave, between him and Bruce. Between him and *Bruce*. He sees the old man half turn in confusion, and Terry tenses. "You! Red! What are you doing here!"

Tim glances behind him, cape curling around him. He frowns, and tilts his head. "...I'm confused."

Terry blinks, edging closer. "Who are you? How did you get in here?" He sees Bruce watching him, as if this were a test he was putting Terry through and yes, of course, it would be graded.

Tim glances at the older Bruce, and then at the oddly cape-less Batman. His voice is higher than Tim would expect for Batman. He stands up slowly, cape falling to conceal most of him anyway. "...Red Robin."

Terry doesn't like the cape. The name is weird. The movements are too slow, too calculated, too Bruce. "How did you make it to the heart of the cave without me noticing?" Bruce watches silently.

Tim shrugs, a small twitch of shoulders that makes the cape fall open slightly. "I was on a mission in Germany two minutes ago, your guess is as good as mine."

Terry bites his lip. He isn't sure of what to do now, doesn't know what Bruce wants him to do. This guy is in the place where they talk and train and change and sometimes nap, and Terry is tired and hot and he doesn't want to deal with this right now. He looks to Bruce hopelessly, and the older man sighs and nods as he takes control of the situation.  
"Where is your base of operations and who were you trained by, Red Robin?" He asks, his bony hand clenched tightly around the top of his cane. His face looks tired but strong, and Terry wishes they'd just quit earlier this night and avoided this. Plus, some Jokerz goons had slammed pipes and crowbars onto his back and the backs of his legs, and he's getting a little shaky from the pain. Why do they always go for those spots? Why not his... Ha doesn't know what. Everything is too sore for him to just pick one spot.

Tim turns toward Bruce. "...Lady Shiva, Red Hood, Nightwing, Batman. I operate from many places, but the Batcave is usually where I make reports. Not this one, though. The layout is wrong."

"I have never trained you." Bruce replies immediately. "And neither has Nightwing. The layout of this cave has stayed the same since I first became partners with Robin." Terry bit his lip and waited. "Red Hood? I'm unfamiliar with the title."

Tim huffs. "Well clearly You're not the Bruce Wayne I knew." Tim crosses his arms. "And the Batcave's layout changes when you want it to, like getting a new souvenir or erecting a new memorial." He glances around. "Like Jason's memorial, which is either strangely hidden or absent."

Bruce's face hardened. "I don't know who you are talking about but do not mention him again."

Tim pauses. "What, Jason? You mean the second Robin? The one who becomes Red Hood. The one who gave me this suit? That one?" Tim raises his eyebrows behind the cowl.

Bruce seethes, but Terry interrupts. "The second Robin was Tim Drake, and he uh, didn't exactly make it to giving anyone a suit."

Tim glances over, eyes narrowed. "No, I was the third and fifth Robins."

"What do you mean, 'you were'?" Terry cocks his head.

"You just said my name. Tim Drake. I was the third and fifth, after Jason and Stephanie, respectively." Tim answers. He shifts his posture, huffing.

Bruce slammed the bottom of his cane on the ground. "Enough! There was no Stephanie and there was no Jason, there was only Dick and Tim."

Tim turns to Bruce, and stares a minute, before pulling down his cowl. "That's rather wrong. I remember things a bit differently. Perhaps we should compare notes."

Terry does a double take. The guy looks practically just like the Joker- the second one, not the first. Except for ages, they could be twins. He waits until Bruce tensely nods to tug his own cowl off.

Tim glances back, at the new Batman. It's not Dick or Damian, thank god it's not that brat, but he also doesn't recognize this kid. He looks like every other boy Bruce has taken in, though.

Terry stars at the new kid, his face starting to blush. It's partially because of how he'd been running through the city, and partially because the kid- Tim- is hot. He'd never thought of boys as 'hot' before, other than that one time, but now it hits him like a truck.

Tim raises an eyebrow. "You know my name, and presumably you know some portion of my story. Who are you?"

"Terry-"  
"McGinnis-"  
Terry and Bruce speak at the same time, and then Terry laughs. "Um, yeah. That's it. Terry McGinnis."

Tim snorts. "Alright. Never heard of you, but given things seem to be more than a bit different here, I'm not going to question it." He turns toward Bruce, and walks over to the Batcomputer. "...When was the last time you upgraded this thing? This is the same one you had when I was Robin."

"I have upgraded since I retired." Bruce sniffs and sits back down.

"No, this is so old. The one you have where I'm from is much more advanced. And faster, this thing is ancient." Tim shakes his head.

Bruce turns his head to glare at Tim. "This is not ancient." Terry holds his tongue and goes back to getting into normal clothes.

Tim snorts. "You're at least 20 years older than my Bruce, and he's upgraded twice since this model."

Bruce huffs. "I saw no need to upgrade when I only came down to reminisce. Now that there is another Batman, the computer here is adequate."

"What, you retired? Didn't you have someone to take your place when you were injured?" Tim's eyes narrow.

"No." Bruce said simply.

Tim frowns. "When you died Dick took your place. What happened to him?"

"His legs were lost about four years before I retired."

"His legs? He lost his legs?" Tim whispered, eyes wide. He leans back against the computers. "Dick lost his legs?"

Terry, over by the suits, bites his bottom lip. Bruce nods. "It was the Joker's fault. He was Nightwing at the time."

"Oh, god. He took it badly when Babs' legs went, I can't imagine how bad that must have felt. Dick..." Tim pressed a fist to his mouth, and took a deep breath. "I should find a way home, can the computer do a scan of the cave, see if there are any anomalies caused by my appearance, or maybe something that caused it? I don't remember if this version could do that yet."

Bruce shook his head. "It can't."

"Would you mind me upgrading it so it can? That's the only way I could figure out how I got here, unless you have any ideas?"

"I have a few ideas, and they require tests on you more than the cave. Do you consent?"

"Anything I can do to get home, Bruce. You know me, you know my answers."

"I don't know you." Bruce sighed. "The Tim Drake I knew, if you are Tim Drake, was much younger, and it has been a long time."

"Well even when I was little, I would've done anything for Batman. That hasn't changed."

"Technically, the Batman around here is me." Terry calls, jerking a thumb at his chest.

Tim snorts. "Well, the Batman I knew and grew up with is Bruce Wayne. So that's the one I trust. Until I've seen you in action, I really don't much care about you." He gives Terry a once-over.

Terry blushes under the intense look for the second time.

Tim notes it, but doesn't comment. He glances at Bruce. "I'm going to need to get familiar with the technological advancements of your timeline in comparison to mine. Is that an option?"

"It is, though you're more likely to find the advancements out on the street than in here." He says, bringing up the necessary programs.

Tim studies them. "Do you have a scanner of some sort? Or anything? What tests were you planning to do?"

"There is a scanner, but it has not been replaced since before the incident." Terry snickers in the backgrounds. "McGinnis, it is not amusing."

Tim snorts. "It sounds pretty amusing. Should I figure out how to upgrade it? I do most of your upgrades, back home. You're too busy with the Demon Spawn to take care of the cave properly."

"Demon Spawn?" Terry asks before Bruce can. He gives Terry a look, then nods. "You may."

"Demon Spawn. Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. Your kid." He adds, nodding toward Bruce.

"I have no children." Bruce replies.

"Well technically you adopted Jason and I. And you had the Demon Spawn with Talia. That was a thing"

"Talia... Al Ghul?" Bruce asks slowly.

Tim nods.

"We were together for a night once, a long time ago. About ten, maybe fifteen years later, the League was temporarily dismantled and Ra's killed. She has not been seen since."

Tim grunts. "Well, in my universe, the league is still intact, Ra's likes me it's creepy, and he came to you to be your successor. You fired me so he could be Robin."

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows. "Huh." Terry comes to join them.

"He tried to kill me. Your son is an asshole."

"I don't have a son." Bruce repeats.

"If you had a night with Talia, she made at least one baby."

Bruce's eyebrow goes up. "I'll believe that when I meet the child."

"Okay." Tim sits on the desk. "Now what?"

"Tell me about where you come from." Bruce says. Terry goes to get a glass of water.

"Like everything different? I don't know what's different."

"Speak about the basics." Bruce reaches out to type on the computer.

"Okay. Well, when I was 4 I watched Dick's parents die. A few years later I saw Robin pull off a quadruple summersault, something only one person of his age could do. From that information I deduced who both he and Batman were."

Bruce shifted in his seat uncomfortably, softly grumbling about Dick.

"After that I spent a lot of time trying to snap pictures of them. I saw Dick leave to become Nightwing, and I was there when Jason stole your tires. He loves that I got pictures of it."

Bruce's jaws clench. "Move on."

"After Jason died, I waited a year to see if you'd get over it. You didn't. So I went to Dick to tell him he had to be Robin, since Batman needed a Robin, but he turned me down. Then he told me to be Robin instead."

Bruce nods, thinking about it.

"I was Robin for a while, then my Dad got out of his coma, and grounded me, so Stephanie became Robin for about a week. She died trying to prove herself, and I took the title back. She came back, but not before Jason did. Jason tried to kill me. Twice."

Bruce coughs. "Move on." Terry comes back with three glasses of water.

"Stephanie became Batgirl, and I was Robin for a bit longer. Dad died, and then my friends died too. And then Damian showed up, and you fired me."

"I find it hard to believe I would do such a thing, but alright." He holds out a hand expectantly for the glass of water that Terry hands him.

"Well, Damian challenged me for the title of Robin. You decided to give it to him, and kicked me out to keep him from killing people." Tim huffs. "I got this suit from Jason, who got it from an alternate version of you."

"I'm confused." Terry says quietly, handing Tim a glass of water.

"By what?" Tim tilts his head, accepting the glass.

"You. Your situation. How can you be from the past and an alternate universe?"

Tim shrugs. "I dunno, it kinda just happened. I was in the middle of diffusing a bomb set up by terrorists when it went off unexpectedly. Next thing I know I'm here."

Terry hums, shifting his weight to the other foot. "It still doesn't explain how you got here, or where you'll stay until you figure out what happened."

"I did have a few apartments, but I doubt they exist here, and if they do I doubt I could use them." Tim shrugs. "Since I existed here I could just stay in my old room."

Bruce cringes. "I would, ah, advise against that."

Tim raises an eyebrow. "What? Why?"

"After the... After the position of Robin was vacant, I took it out on the room. I doubt you would like to see that mess."

Tim blinks. "...I'm confused."

"You can stay in the creepy, lonely manor, or you could stay with me as long as you promise not to harm my poor little Korean mother and my little dreg of a brother." Terry says, smiling cheekily at Bruce.

Tim blinks. "'Creepy Manor?'" He repeats, frowning. "....I don't know, maybe. I'm assuming going by my name would be a bad idea. Too bad I don't have any wigs or anything in the suit."

"There's a ton of stores near my place, so if you need clothing, wigs, anything, it's covered. So schway." Terry looks at Bruce. "But, you shouldn't need a wig. Not like anyone'll know who you are."

"...I guess..." Tim huffs. "I just... I'd feel better with a set role to play."

"Stressed high school student?" Terry suggests.

Tim snorts. "That's unlikely. I dropped out of High school to be the CEO of Drake Industries."

"Drake what? I don't know what that is, and being Bruce's errand boy taught me plenty about the business world." Bruce snorts.

Tim frowns. "Drake Industries. My parents' electrics company."

Bruce frowns. "There has never been a Drake Industries."

Tim makes an insulted noise. He dug in his belt, and produced a phone, which clearly had the Drake Industries label on the back, and offered it to Bruce.

Bruce inspects the model, then hands it back. "Haven't we previously made it clear that your universe and this one are not the same?"

Tim huffs. "Well then whatever past I had here was *wrong*. I am the son of Jack and Janet Drake, who were your neighbors."

"My neighbors were a new-money family of Hispanics and the Wilsons." Bruce replies.

"In my universe, the Drakes were old-money neighbors on your left. A long line of them, almost as old as the Waynes. My father went into a coma around the same time my mother committed suicide, and if you hadn't bought Drake Industries it probably would have gone bankrupt and been lost."

Bruce sipped his water in lieu of answering. Terry steps in. "So, pick where you want to stay, and decide what cover you want."

"...I hated being in the Manor alone with Bruce anyway. Call me... Todd. Todd Richards."

Bruce ground his teeth together, while Terry frowned. "Can I call you Red? I know six Todds and a good twenty Richards."

"Sure. But a common name is a good idea, don't you think? Should I go for an accent? What time of year is it?"

"Uh, late spring?" He looks to Bruce, who nods. "Yeah."

Tim nods. "Is foreign exchange a good cover story? I'm going to need one, considering my age. I can do a few accents and I speak plenty of languages."

"Sure. Pick a country, Any country." Terry shrugs.

Tim smiles. "My mother was Korean, I spoke that and German before I learned English. Which would be better?"

"Korean." Terry says without hesitation. "My mom will be all over that."

Tim smiles. "My mother's original name was Jeong-Ji Ha. Should I fake an accent, or should I not?"

"Sometimes. Make it obvious you know English and speak it all the time, but occasionally pull through with the accent and make them remember that you aren't from around here."

"Alright. I not that great at doing contractions, sometimes." He smiles. He adds a medium-thickness accent to his words.

Terry nods, cheeks tinting pink in the blue-green glow of the computer. "Bruce, mind if we head out?"

Bruce nodded, handing Terry a credit card. "For whatever you need."

Tim frowns a little. "I could go out in this, but I rather doubt it would be a good idea. Do you have anything I can borrow in the changing area?"

Terry nods, pulling his backpack around. He tugs out the extra clothes- yoga pants, loose shirt, another jacket- and hands them to Tim. Red.

Tim grabs them, and ducks behind a curtain. He comes out a few minutes later with the suit folded in his hands, Belts draped over top of it.

Terry offers him the backpack, which has his own suit stuffed inside.

Tim blinks. He was just gonna leave the bundle(aside from the belts, really) in the cave. He drops the suit into the bag, holding up one of the belts to grab a glasses case. He also pulls out a contacts case, too.

Terry closes the bag and tosses it over one shoulder. "Thanks, Bruce."

Tim pulls out his contacts, putting them back in the case. He slips on the glasses, blinking owlishly for a second before smiling again. He runs his fingers through his hair, and waves at Bruce.

~o~

Terry had gotten onto the train with Tim, but got off a stop or two earlier, because, on further inspection of Tim's hips with his eyes and the one time his hand brushed against them, they were too small for anything he owned. His mom preferred dresses and seven year old sweatpants, and Matt was too short. So he led the way, thumbs hooked in the pockets on his pants. "Hey, Red, you'll need some clothes for the night, we can get you more stuff tomorrow." He offers a sheepish smile as he leads the way into a store that's filled with men's clothing and shoes. Due to it being three in the morning, it's mostly empty, other than a Chinese-looking guy straightening a display of shirts. He looks up, eyes taking over Tim and him hungrily. There's a slight falter when his eyes reach Terry, but then there's a wink and a "Hey boys."

Tim had noticed the touches and the looks, but said nothing. When they got to the shop, he's taken aback by the naked interest in the young (trans?)man in the back. He smiles sheepishly, ears tinging pink. He glances at the clothing, and the smile drops. Nothing here would look good on a winter.

Terry rubs the back of his neck, laughing. Fuck, isn't he already dating Dana? Are they still together? Isn't there some kind of rule against this shit? He notices the look on Tim's face and frowns too, but suddenly the flirty Asian in the back is in the front. It isn't that big of a store, but still, that was crazy fast. His nametag reads Daniel.  
"Is something wrong," Daniel trails off, waiting for the cutie who isn't Terry to speak. He isn't in the mood to flirt with Terry, because he's still mad at Terry. "Can I help you find something?"

Tim sighs, and mumbles under his breath in German. "Sorry, it's just. I'm a winter. Nothing I'm seeing would look good, you know?" He pushes his glasses up his nose, and looks over at Daniel.

"Well," Daniel drags it out. "I have an idea. Try a monochrome outfit- like a white shirt, black jacket, dark grey pants, then have the pockets and maybe the shoes have a splash of color. Oh, and you have to have a striped scarf, the lines will do wonders for everything." Daniel grabs a jacket, guessing Tim's size, and a shirt, then gesturing to the rack with the mentioned pants. "What color looks best on you?"

"I'm best in reds and pale purples."

Daniel nods. "Then, Terry, go grab a pair in... Small? Medium? With dark red pockets. You, Winter, can hold these," he hands the items in his hand to him. "While I go get that scarf. Then I can show you to the dressing room, you can strip and put all this on, and then show me that I'm right. Do you also want a pair of matching boxers, in case any schway cuties catch your eyes?" He winks.

Tim smiles. "Maybe, but probably not today, kind sir." Tim fiddles with the ring on his finger, and takes the clothing. "Also, I'm a Medium. But if your sizes run large then a small with elastic will work."

Daniel nods, and Terry goes to do as told. It will be hours that he realizes that he never told Daniel his name.  
"Is there anything else you'd like? We have a sale on our long sleeves, and if you see anything in that shade of red on the pant's pockets, I'll give you a discount."

Tim smiles again. "You're too kind. I'll look though, thank you."

"You're welcome, Winter." Daniel smiles back.

"Oh, my name is Tim. Timothy Ha."

"Let me guess, Korean?" Daniel asks, half turning to go grab the red-and-black striped scarf.

Tim smiles. "My father was half-German and half-American, but I spent my earlier years in Korea with mom, yeah."

Daniel nodded. "I thought so, you've got this twist to your k's and your n's that I remember pretty clearly. I'm Chinese, and though I grew up here in Gotham, I've been to China, Hong Kong, Korea, Japan, Burma, Mongolia, everywhere over there. The family's pretty big and everything is so beautiful. I would love to live there, if only they had Gotham's cheese fries."

Tim hums. "I've been to a few different places, but not too many. I've always wanted to travel." He drapes the clothes over one arm, and pushes his glasses up his nose again.

"After all of the traveling I've done, I've got three pieces of advice. One, taking food from little old ladies is a bad idea, but taking it from young men who have Arabic accents is a fantastic idea. The tourists are always white and always loudly trying and failing to sign their words. And, of course, hide your money in your che-" He coughs. "I mean, hide your money."

Tim smiles. "Of course." He doesn't comment on the verbal misstep, and turns to go through the shirts.

Daniel sighs, glad that his shift will be over soon. He has to get up early in the morning, put on makeup, and figure out which minidress Dana will be wearing to school. And, he wishes it were simpler.

Tim takes a few minutes to go through the shirts, and picks two. One in a nice shade of garnet, and another lavender.

Seeing Tim's choices, Daniel grabs two scarves- one being the striped one, and the other being a plaid lavender, purple, pale pink, and grey one. "Terry, also grab a pair of those pants with lavender pockets." He calls across the room. This will be good six, seven outfits, if done right. And, looking at Tim, it seems like he knows how to do this right.

Tim sees the scarves, and smiles. He glances over to where is. "Should he really be left alone like that?"

"No, but he'll manage." Daniel winks at Terry across the store, and he drops everything he's holding and blushes even darker, which is impressive considering he had only been holding two pairs of pants, and they'd been securely on his arm.

Tim's eyebrow goes up, but he smiles. He pushes his glasses up again. "If you say so."

"Imagine a ten hour shopping spree with only the promise of milkshakes and second base to get him through it." Daniel snorted.

Tim rolls his eyes. "Sounds like a fun time. I had to bribe my girlfriend like that a few times back home, she hates shopping."

"You taken, Winter?" Daniel asks.

Tim shrugs. "On-again-off-again. We were off last time I talked to her. Might change when I get home, you know?"

Daniel nods, eyes lingering on Terry. "Tell me about it."

Tim hums. He runs his fingers through his hair, and thinks about Stephanie. And Cassie. Oh, she and Kon aren't going to take his disappearance well. His face falls a little, as he thinks about it.

"But," Daniel pulls back to Tim. "Let's not focus on boys and girls who we're hung up on. Are your ears pierced?"

Tim blinks, and nods. They are, in a few places. He had a punk phase.

"Got any sensitivities to gold paint or silver?" Daniel finally hands him the scarves, heading for the bowl of earrings.

Tim takes the scarves, thinking. "I'm allergic to Platinum, if that helps."

"It does." Daniel makes that mental note and pulls out two sets of earrings, one a six pack with simple designs like hearts and arrows, and the other a twelve pack of multicolored rounded studs. "Want either of these? The color on your ears, with your hair, would drive people crazy."

Tim smiles. "The rounded studs would look better, I can't pull off designs without looking even younger than I do already."

"I don't know, I think the arrows would look sharp. But, if you insist," Daniel hands the twelve pack to Tim as Terry regains the nerve to cross the store again and hand the pants to Tim.

Tim takes them and smiles brightly at the slightly taller boy. He glances back at Daniel. "Where was that changing room again?"

Daniel leads him to the door, pulling they keys from his belt to unlock it. "There's a mirror inside, but nothing in there will give you an opinion like our eyes." He smiles wider and gestures inside the room.

Tim smiles at him in thanks, and slips inside, draping the clothes on the bar provided and begins pulling off his hoodie.

Daniel steps back a few feet, standing next to Terry. He's still shorter than Terry, even though he's a year older. "So, Ter, where'd you find this one?" He asks, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one leg. Terry looks down at him. "Uh, Korean transfer student. You know the deal."

Tim dresses in the black pants, with the red pockets, and the garnet button-up. he loops the striped scarf around his neck, and steps out with eyebrows raised. "I don't look twelve, do I?"

"You look like a solid fifteen." Daniel smiled at him. "How close is that to your real age?"

"I'll be turning eighteen in 4 months."

"Then fifteen isn't too bad." Daniel reaches into his pocket to pull out a box of card-themed mints. "Want one?"

Tim nods. "Thank you." He takes one, and steps back into the changing rooms to change back.

Terry was too flustered to say anything. Daniel offers him a mint, a spades, and he takes it. Then Daniel takes three more for himself, and waits for the next outfit of Tim's.

Tim comes out in the other outfit, the purple pockets and lavender button-up. The plaid scarf is wound around his neck, and he ruffles his hair a little. He's been meaning to cut it.

Daniel nods. "Now try the plain shirt and the jacket, okay?"

Tim nods. He walks back in to change.

"He's cute. Let's see how long it takes him to notice I slipped my number in his pocket." Daniel says, just before the door opens again.

Tim smiles. He'd noticed, but said nothing and shown no sign of knowing. He steps out in the plain shirt and jacket, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Looking good. Do you want them all, or?" Daniel waits.

Tim nods. "Yes. I'll be buying them all."

Daniel nodded. "Do you want anything else, or are those good enough?"

"These are good. Thanks." He smiles.

"You're welcome, Winter. Follow me and I can ring you up." He starts walking towards the register beckoning over his shoulder for them to go the same way. Terry may have stared a few seconds too long.

Tim swipes the credit card from Terry. He smiles brightly at Daniel.

Daniel smiles back. "I don't mind if you leave wearing the clothes."

Tim grins. "I might. Thank you, again."

Daniel goes back to the dressing room to grab the items, then rings them up and puts them in a bag. He also adds in a pack of mints on the house. "I'll see you soon."

Tim smiles. "Of course. See you around, Daniel."

Daniel nods, waving as they walk away.  
Terry sighs when they leave the store. "That was... Crazy."

"How so?" Tim smiles, curious.

"That kid in there, Daniel, he reminds me of someone I know, but I can't figure out who." He doesn't mention the part where he's having a sexuality crisis.

Tim shrugs. "I wouldn't know."

"I don't know how the process at my school works, but the security's a joke, so my word should be good enough. I can pull the 'my boss is Mr. Wayne and this is part of the gig' card."

Tim nods. "If you can get me access to a computer I can figure out how to hack the system to register me as well."

"I've got a tablet that used to be my dad's, if that's good enough. It's been wiped since, so it's a total clean slate, and it's Waynetech too."

"Perfect."

Terry smiles, looking down at Tim. "So, like the outfits? You look pretty schway."

"Yes. I don't know what schway means, but."

"It's like... Awesome? Maybe? Cool? It's different though. It's schway." He shrugs, as if that explains it.

Tim snorts. "Whatever you say."

"Anyways, I'll need to let the tablet charge, but you can use it while it's charging, and I'm sure Mr. Wayne won't argue too much about giving you a newer model. And a phone. I've got an extra backpack you can use, if you need it. And... For sleeping arrangements, I can take the floor or the couch. Whichever you'd rather." He lists off everything, leading Tim towards his apartment building.

Tim hums. He runs his fingers through his hair, smiling.

Terry glances at him, and smiles too. "So, what's the old man like for you?"

"Bruce is... serious, and everything is about the mission. He even crafted a persona- Brucie- to cast off suspicion of being Batman. He runs Wayne Enterprises, though I do most of the CEO and financial work for him, now. Er, I did."

"How will his company survive without you?" Terry asks almost-sarcastically.

Tim shrugs. "It will take a sharp dive once the 6 months of work I've done in advance runs out, and after that Bruce, Dick, and Jason will compensate for my absence in whatever way they can figure out how to."

"Why is the old man so upset whenever you mention that last one? Jason?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm not from this timeline. In mine Jason died, and came back to life. Bruce was never angry about Jason, just broken."

"Huh." Terry makes a left, and hopes that his mom didn't wait up and that Matt isn't awake.

Tim hums. "If Jason hadn't died, I would think he and Bruce might fight, get into an argument like he and Dick eventually did. But I'm unsure."

"I know that me and him fight all the time. I've talked to Dick too- and trust me, the old man made it sound a lot worse than it actually was."

Tim shrugs. "You aren't Bruce's partner like we were. You don't physically go out into Gotham with him, develop a language of hand signals and body language to keep from alerting others of your presence or intentions, rely on his and your own ability to protect each other. It's different when he's there to touch and when he's just a voice in your ear. I've played both roles myself, actually."

Terry sighed, leading Tim inside of the building and towards the elevator. "So I missed the prime, so I got a different experience than you or the other Robins. I still get it."

Tim shrugs. "I guess. It's a different experience, going solo with a voice after having a partner. You've only known the voice." He smiles. "Lucky."

He smiles back at Tim. "I never really thought so, but I agree anyways."

"You barely have to deal with him in person. And you don't live near him, or in the manor with him. Like we did."

"And that's considered lucky? I wish I lived close enough to do everything I needed to do."

"Well, you could ask him to have your family moved closer. He's still one of the richest men in Gotham, isn't he?"

"I could ask, but I doubt my mom would go for it. She's got a job she hates, but it's a steady one. And all of Matt's friends live near here."

Tim hums. "Alright. Shouldn't I meet your mother and explain the situation?"

"You could, but, I don't think she'd be too happy with it."

"The real one or our alibi?"

"Uh, both." Terry coughs and steps out of the elevator as they reach his floor.

Tim sighs. He grumbles softly in Korean.

"What was that?" Terry asks as he opens his door.

"나는 저주하지 않았습니다. 물론 아무것도 닥쳐 없습니다." Tim huffs. ("Absolutely nothing. I was not cursing, shut up.")

"You say you weren't cursing, but I know Korean." He rolls his eyes, hesitating in front of his door.

"나는 당신이 한국어를 알지.하지만 당신은 내가 말한 증거가 없다, 그래서 나는 내 옆에 그럴듯하게 부인 있습니다." Tim crosses his arms, huffing again. ("I know you know Korean. But you have no proof of what I said, so I have plausible deniability on my side.")

"And you need to speak softer, please." Terry smiled, and opened the door slowly.

"나는 대화의 어조로 말하고있다. 짓은하지 않으 마." He glances up, as the door opens. There's a woman waiting. ("I am speaking in a conversational tone. Don't be a dick.")

Terry groans. "Uhhhm, hi mom." He slowly smiles and goes in to kiss her on the cheek. Her eyes go straight to Tim. "Terry, who is this, and what do you think you're doing, coming home this late?" He looked back at Tim.

Tim smiles. "S-sorry. That's my fault. I just transferred to his school, and he was assigned to show me around town. I'm scheduled to get a hotel tomorrow, I was hoping I could stay the night? I can leave if that's not the case." He smiles sheepishly, turning meek in comparison to how he'd been acting moments before. His voice quivers on his words, and the accent is there but fading as he gets back into speaking English.

Her face softens. "A hotel? I won't hear of it. You can stay here, what's your name?"

Tim smiles a little, fidgeting. "Timothy Ha. Mom gave me another name, but Dad doesn't like that one."

She nodded. "Alright, Timothy, sweetie, Terry's bed is open. Come in, have you eaten?"

Tim shrugs a little. "I'm fine, thank you. And the couch is fine, too. I couldn't take Terry's bed from him." He smiles a little, and pushes his glasses up his nose.

"No, it's fine. He'll be in enough trouble as it is- unless he was out this late picking you up?" She turns her eyes to Terry, and he nods. "Yes ma'am."

"We also had to buy clothing- my bags were lost on the way over and I needed a few days worth until and in case they make it." He smiles a little sheepishly, head ducking a little. "Sorry, I should've made sure he called."

"It's okay, as long as you boys make sure to call me in the future. I'm tired of worrying all the time." She patted Terry's cheek. "Well, I'll be going to bed, don't stay up too late." She smiled and turned to leave the room.

Tim nods, and shifts his hold on the shopping bag. In all honesty he hadn't eaten since Breakfast, but that was fine. He'd be fine.

As soon as she was gone, Terry sighed in relief. "Thank you. She has a weakness for cute kids. Now, you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

Tim shrugs. He drops the meek act after a second, and tugs his glasses off to clean them. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Kay. Everything in the kitchen is fair game. Follow me to my room." Terry started walking.

Tim nods, following. He pulls his glasses on once he's satisfied with them, and smiles.

Terry opens the door and sets his bag on the bed, shrugging his jacket off and pulling the shirt off too. "Sorry, just need to change b'fore, you know, I go out there." His back aches and is mottled with dark bruises, and pretty much everything else too. He's unlucky. He goes to the dresser to grab a shirt and pair of pajama pants.

"Those bruises aren't healthy. Hasn't Bruce taught you how to avoid getting hit like that? You're lucky your back or ribs haven't broken from the damage there." Tim frowns. "Bruce's back looked better after Bane broke it."

"It's fine, the old man didn't teach me anything. It's my fault, really." He shrugged.

"That's a fault of his, failing to train you. He'll get you killed at that rate." He frowns. "Would you like help?"

"I guess? I've survived up till now, 'what doesn't kill you' and all that."

"The way you're going you'll end up over-exerting yourself and getting yourself or someone else killed. I can at least teach you to defend against a bo-staff, and someone trained to use nerve-strikes against their opponents."

Terry nodded. "Sounds fun. Don't suppose you've got any tips on how to make them stop hurting, do you?" He pauses, holding a plain white shirt.

"Press hot and cold cloths on them in an alternating pattern. Hot helps with muscle ache, cold helps with swelling."

Terry nodded. "I'll try, though it'll be a bit hard. Can't exactly reach anything." He pulls on the short, grimacing, and unbuttons his pants.

"I can help. Give yourself some time to heal, I'd rather not start operating here until I know the layout better, but I can if you're this injured."

"It's fine, I can still patrol, this is nothing new." Terry shimmies out of his pants, showing off some more bruises and scars on his legs. "Everything is fine."

"That sounds exactly like something I've said when talking about my parents. Terry, you do realize if you go out injured that horribly you're more at risk of dying than ever before."

"I'm not horribly injured." Terry closes his eyes and shakes his head, sighing. "They're just bruises, and this is Gotham. They need me. Bruce can't take a day off of being old and you can't take a day off of finding a way home. When you leave, it will still be just me and the old man, and I will still have bruises and not be as good at this as he wishes I was, and I will be fine. You will be fine. He will be fine. Okay? Get some sleep." He grabs the bag off the bed sets it on the floor, going to the desk to grab the tablet and its charger. "Here. Don't stay up, we leave for school at eight. The school's name is Hamilton High."

"I do not operate well on more than three hours of sleep." He takes the tablet, finding an outlet to plug the charger into. He taps away at it for a while. After a few minutes he's managed to create a convincing document for a foreign exchange student, it doesn't have photographic ID, but it does have other, more important information. He buries it in the school's network a little, to make it seem like it had been sent a while back, and lost, rather than just appearing overnight. "Is the city still called Gotham? Have the names of other places changed?"

"Neo-Gotham. Got tired of rebuilding the city's rep, so they gave it a new one. Don't know about anywhere else." He pulls on the pajama pants and pulls out his laptop, making sure he has his homework at least partially done.

Tim groans. "Ugh, that's a horrible name. That's worse than Neo-New York. Do you know how dumb Neo-New York is?" He whines.

"Isn't that just new New York?" His eyebrows rise.

"Yes. Yes it is. And it's so common in works of fiction that they were making plans of starting a colony- on a planet on the other side of the universe, currently titled 'New Earth'- with the title. And Neo-Gotham is so much dumber than that. Why." Tim whines.

"I don't know, ask the city council of the time. Mr. Wayne supported it. Publicly."

"Bruce is a dick. He's a bigger dick than Dick is. I can't believe this. Also, why is there no map of the city? How am I supposed to figure out the layout of the buildings and the best vantage points to shoot a line from without maps. What is this."

Terry makes grabby hands at the tablet. "You aren't looking in the right spot."

Tim hands it to him, sighing dramatically. "Ugh, why."

It takes Terry half a minute to pull up a set of maps of the city in shades of blue, white, gray scale, and color photographs from an aerial set they did monthly via satellite.

Tim studies them once he gets the tablet back. "...This city was not built with grappling hooks in mind. Why is everything so tall."

"Grappling hooks? Who uses those anymore? I've got jets and wings, sort of."

"In my era, jets are too experimental. And grappling hooks have been used since Bruce was just starting out, they're perfectly reliable. Ugh, imagine the street pizza that'd happen if I fell. I'm sorta glad I appeared in the cave instead of in mid-air or something."

"Don't jinx it, Red." He rolls his eyes.

Tim huffs. "I'm already here, aren't I? It's unlikely I'll end up coming back, once I've isolated the anomaly that caused my appearance in the first place. Probably."

Terry nods, yawning. He wants to sleep, but he is also a bit wary of Tim being awake and alone in his room, in his home.

Tim starts tapping at the tablet again. "...Oh, good. Your school just found the notice about the transfer. They're scheduling a meeting for tomorrow morning at seven."

"Who has to be there?" Terry reaches for a bottle of water, and sips from it. It turns out to be pineapple flavored, but he doesn't complain.

"Me, and the Parent who wants to foster me. You were officially the one who showed me around town, but you aren't required to foster me if you don't want to. I can pay a hobo to do it I required. Or Bruce. I know how to make tea to Alfred's standards."

"I can take you, we're both going to the same place and my mom loves you. Plus, you're Korean."

Tim hums. He stifles a yawn. "Okay. Your mom will have to be there, you know."

Terry nodded. "She won't be too happy about being late for work." He yawns again. "Do you mind if I go sleep?"

Tim shook his head. "Go ahead."

Terry stands. "Try not so stay awake too long, okay?" He smiles.

Tim smiles. "Of course. Wouldn't *dream* of it."

"Yeah, well, hope you dream up something nice. See you in the morning." He yawns again as he leaves the room.

Tim hums. He pulls a small pad of paper out of his belt, and a pen. He begins sketching diagrams of possible travel patterns to use in the dumb new Gotham he's stuck in.

Terry grabs a blanket and lays on the couch, passing out within minutes.

Tim finishes his sketches, and also outlines a quick training plan. He won't feel too confident about working with Terry if Terry can't defend himself properly.


	2. first day of school, and also first night of patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ready, kid?" He asks.
> 
> Tim raises an eyebrow, seated at the computer with his glasses perched on his nose. "I'm older than you."
> 
> "I know. It's a force of habit, I see a head of black hair and I say it without thinking. Little brother, you know?"

It had been nearly a year and a half since Tim had dropped out of Highschool to be a CEO. He has never regretted that decision, and being forced to go to school again just proves his annoyance is even more founded. He doesn't need two years of a 'foreign' language, lady. He steps into his first period, an English class, with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a tablet clutched to his chest. He's currently feeling somewhere between Timothy Drake and Tim Wayne and he's not sure which would be a better choice to go with.

Terry feels bad for Tim. He's freaking out really hard. That's to be expected, but it's still tripping him up. Luckily, they have a few classes together, and the first class of the day happens to be one of them. English. Terry sucks at it, but Dana's there, and now Tim is too. He snags a seat in the middle, Dana to his left and Tim still picking his seat.

Tim decides once he notices both Terry and Dani- er, the cashier he'd met the other day whose name he is unsure of, are there, he'll go with Timothy until further notice. He's tempted to pick the seat in the back next to the window- ironically, mostly- but goes with the one on Terry's right. If nothing else he can make snarky complaints in Korean at Terry.

Dana leans forward, smile on her lips as she offers Tim a hand. She'd met him the night before, but she hadn't met him as a girl. "Dana. You are?"

Tim smiles. "Timothy. Call me Tim." He shakes her hand with a small smile, pushing his glasses up his nose with the other hand.

Dana giggles. "You're cute, Tim."

Tim ducks his head, mumbling. Timothy isn't cute. He glances at Terry, unsure what to do.

Terry smiles at Tim. "Dana, he's a Korean transfer student, and he's going to be staying at my place."  
"Ooh, you think you'll have any time for him, what with your PA job for Mr. Wayne?" She teases.

Tim snorts. "Actually, since I know Mr. Wayne personally we'll be seeing each other kinda often. My father was an old business partner of Bruce's."

She nodded. "Ah, I see. So you'll both get suckered into spending all of your time with the old bat."

Tim snorts. He glances at Terry with a sly smile, fist pressed to his mouth to hide his mirth.

Terry chuckled, and Dana leaned back in her seat. "Ready for the hell that is American English?" Dana asked.

Tim snorts. "I've been speaking it, German, and Korean for most of my life. I'll be fine." He turns toward the front of the class. "Not my first day of school, after all."

"Still, American English classes are the worst. Trust me, I'd know." She pulls out her tablet as the teacher enters the room.

Tim nods. He also knows.

~o~

Terry finishes pulling on the body of the batsuit, and crosses the cave to the batcomputer and Tim. Bruce is hosting some sort of dinner upstairs, barely trusting Tim enough to run tech support for Terry. "Ready, kid?" He asks.

Tim raises an eyebrow, seated at the computer with his glasses perched on his nose. "I'm older than you."

"I know. It's a force of habit, I see a head of black hair and I say it without thinking. Little brother, you know?"

Tim snorts. "I was the little brother, for most of my life. The one I have now I'd love to strangle." He sighs. "I am ready, though. Should I set up the headset like we do at home or is this fine?"

"The speakers and mic work fine, besides, things can get pretty loud." He pulls on the mask after a moment's pause. "Do a quick sweep for anything that's happening, please?"

Tim hums. "Wow, this tech is just so old. Uh, there might be a robbery happening at... the bank? Is that where it is now? I need to re-consult my map."

"Got it." Terry hops in the batmobile and heads for the bank in question. It's some goon, low on his priority scale. "Finished, Red. What next?"

"There's some sort of... riot? gang meeting? A large, rowdy gathering of people. Police have gotten a few complaints and there might be guns, be careful."

"I will be careful, where is it?" He asks, preparing to head to the place. Guns? Gang meeting? That sounded like a higher priority thing.

"It's a few streets away from your position, if you listen you might hear the gunfire."

"Which direction?" He can't hear anything through the suit and the car.

Tim sighs. "Swing a left and two consecutive rights."

Terry sighed in relief. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Batman."

As he drives, Terry goes over what he has on him, and decides that it's enough. "How did you like the school?"

"It's, surprisingly enough, exactly like high school back home. But with even more convoluted history lessons."

"Convoluted?" Terry makes the first right and winces at the loud rat-a-tat of gunfire. To get through the soundproofing of the batmobile, it would be deafening outside.

Tim hums. "I remember the late 90's and early 2000's pretty well. What we went over today was drenched in fear-mongering and white supremacy."

Terry nodded. "You're right, nothing has changed."

"Well, I mean, Homosexuals seem to have slightly better rights than they do back home, so there's that."


	3. Dana deserves to know things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dana kisses Terry quickly and smiles again. "Thanks." She turns and grabs Tim's arm. 
> 
> He smiles brightly. "I'm willing to talk in a lot of detail, and I got permission from B- Mr. Wayne- too."
> 
> "B what?" She asks.
> 
> "B. I call him that, cause Bruce."

"Ficken verdammt Hurensohn- drite piss pikk fitte fuckery- скулить дерьмо член чертовски!" Tim hopped on one foot, cursing rather loudly in three different languages. He'd been walking from his locker to head to his apartment, and had stubbed his toe on a suddenly-open door.

Dana had been leaving her class and accidentally stubbed Tim's toe, and the loud bitching in multiple languages makes her purse her lips. "Tim, you lied to me, didn't you?" She asks.

"Черт-" Tim pauses mid-word, and glances up at Dana. "Er..." He hadn't been faking an accent for a few weeks now, and had lacked one in German, Norwegian, and Russian, just now. He also spoke French flawlessly, but. "...Fine, yes. I'm not allowed to tell you more unless I get Terry's permission."

"Oh, you'll get his permission." She narrowed her eyes. "You're sleeping at my place tonight."

"Yes ma'am."

She crooked a finger for Tim to follow her as she goes to find Terry.

Tim follows her quietly. He might mumbles "Блин." under his breath, but that's okay. She doesn't know Russian.

Dana is okay with not knowing Russian, she is not okay with Terry lying to her all the time. She finally finds him and smiles faux-sweetly. "Ter, I know that you've had Max lying her ass off to hide whatever it is you and Mr. Wayne are doing, but having Tim do it too isn't schway. So, he's spending the night at my house and you're giving him permission to tell me everything I want to know, got it?" He nodded.

Tim pulls out a phone Bruce had given him, shooting the old man a quick 'Hey, B, D wants to know some stuff, can I tell them everything?'  
he got a 'Fine' in response.

Dana kisses Terry quickly and smiles again. "Thanks." She turns and grabs Tim's arm. 

He smiles brightly. "I'm willing to talk in a lot of detail, and I got permission from B- Mr. Wayne- too."

"B what?" She asks.

"B. I call him that, cause Bruce."

She nods. "Got it. You're starting the honesty thing out pretty well."

"I'm working on it. Being what amounts to an un-diagnosed pathological liar. Though I haven't so much been lying as lying by omission."

"Lying is lying, Tim." She gives him a look.

"Omission is better than spreading false information."

"And have you spread false information?"

"Not in this dimension."

Dana feels that there's a joke behind that, but doesn't understand it.

"I'll explain that later." Tim smiles. "Away from prying eyes and ears."

Dana nodded. "Do you wanna get food first? Do you need anything from your house?

"No, I'm good. My apartment is pretty much barren, thank you."

"You don't need clothes?" She raises an eyebrow.

"No. I've got a couple things on me, everything's fine." Tim smiles brightly.

She nodded. "You can borrow my stuff too, if you want."

"I might. Thanks."

Dana smiles at Tim. "Tonight will be interesting."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it."

She nods. "Please, it's can't be that big, it's not like Terry's Batman or something."

Tim snorts. "Something like that."

She raises her eyebrows again. "What?"

"I can't say more until we're somewhere private." Tim smiles brightly.

"Wait- you, you're shitting me." She stopped walking. "What?"

Tim mimes zipping his lips.

Dana stared at him. "You're- oh my- Tim!"

Tim just smiles.

She hits his arm. "Oh my god I'm going to kill Terry!"

"I wouldn't advise that, he doesn't have a replacement at the ready in this universe."

Dana groaned. "I'm going to maim him."

"Wait until you have the entire story."

Dana narrowed her eyes. "Fine."

"Lead the way to your home, and I can begin the story."

Dana lead Tim to her car and got in the front seat.

Tim sat in the shotgun. He props his chin on his hand, smiling.

Dana drove home quickly, wanting to get to that private place to hear his story. Max should be coming later, so the part she probably already knows will be over with. Maybe Dana will kill Terry during the recap.

Tim hums to himself. He ends up mumbling a song he'd heard just before he'd been transported to this universe. "...just the way I'm feeling, I just can't deny..." Tim was bored. And he was psyching himself up for a long talk about his and everyone else's past.

When Dana pulled into her driveway, she sat for two seconds before grabbing her bag and walking inside, short skirt swishing as she walks.

Tim gets out after her, humming the tune. He was sort of bopping along with it, but hey, he can do what he wants. Once they're inside, he grins.

Like usual, they would be alone all evening and next morning. Unless Doug showed up, in which case, she would ask Tim to leave so nothing bad would happen to him. She sinks into the couch and waits for Tim to do the same.

Tim sits down across from her, steeping his fingers together. "So, should I start with my story, or Bruce's?"

"Which will help me understand better?" She asks.

"Context from Bruce might help explain discrepancies in mine."

"Then you can start on his. I'll assume the mention of discrepancies will make more sense too?"

"Yes. Alright, so as everyone should know, when he was 8 he watched his parents be murdered in front of him. He got a complex from this and eventually decided to fight crime while wearing a giant bat costume because he had an irrational fear of bats and he wanted to exploit other peoples' fear as well."

Dana frowned. "That sounds an awful lot like the Scarecrow, but more batty. What, were they boyfriends or something?"

"Surprisingly enough, no, Scarecrow's obsession with fear stems from childhood trauma from being hurt by his grandmother. Bruce's stems from watching his parents die and falling down a well. He never got over it. Eventually he picks up a kid, Dick Grayson, whose parents also died in front of him."

"Dick Grayson? I think I've heard of him." She hummed.

Tim smiles. "Yeah. Dick figures out who Bruce is while living with him, and becomes a rather well-loved sidekick. He used a name his mother gave him, can you guess it?"  
"Uh..." She thinks for a second. "I don't remember the name, but I have a picture of him on my tablet?" She holds it up.

Tim giggles. "Robin. That's an important name. Anyway, Dick grows up, he and B fight because Dick is tired of being treated like a child, and goes on to become Nightwing!"

She smiles. "Nightwing? I think I remember him- hold on, can I look him up real quick?"

"Go for it." Tim smiles, propping his chin on his fingers.

She taps the tablet's password in, and checks for him. Finally, she finds a picture of a figure covered in red and yellow and orange feathers and a yellow domino. She shows the picture to him. "Is this Nightwing?"

Tim blinks. "Uh, no. That's Flamebird. He's, sadly, only from this universe. I kinda wish he wasn't."

"Huh. Wonder who Flamebird was, then. He's kinda hot." She looks down at the picture, and the probably-dyed red hair.

"Oh, I know who he is, I'm getting to him. I just wish my version of him had gone that route."

She nodded. "Fine, keep going."

"Mmhmm, so after Dick leaves, Bruce wallows alone for a while, and ends up picking up a stray. Jason Todd, a kid who, in this universe, wasn't Robin for very long at all. He and B clashed horribly, and Jason left. Eventually he became the Flamebird to Dick's Nightwing."

She "ooh"ed. "Nice."

Tim grins. "Anyway. This universe's version of me came to Bruce when he was 9, and became Robin. His history is different than mine and offends me, so we'll skip it, yadda yadda kidnapped by Joker, chip planted into his brain, blah blah in a coma."

She nodded. "Okay, I think I know that part already. Go on?"

"So this version of me is fired early, and lives his life. Bruce fucks up a few times, Dick and Babs, aka Barbara Gordon aka Batgirl, get hurt and leave, and B is left alone. He gets old and has to abandon being a vigilante. And then Terry shows up. I don't know all of the details, but you can guess?"

She narrows her eyes. "He became Batman and never got any sleep or had any time for me. I know the story."

"Yeah. But he's trying to help the city. Anyway, now it's /my/ story. As you might've picked up from some asides I made, I'm from a different universe."

Dana stared at him blankly. "Wait- you're serious?"

Tim smiles. "In my universe, Everything was pretty similar up to Jason's part. He and B don't break up within like, a week. They're together for a few years, and then Jay dies."

She winces. "Oh."

Tim nods. "Yeah. B does not take it well, and me, being the /genius/ of a twelve-year-old I was, I went to Dick, who I knew was Robin because he was the only person of his age group capable of pulling off a quadruple somersault. I try to convince him to go back to Bruce, but he refuses, and tells me to become Robin instead. Around that time, my mom kills herself and dad drops into a coma, so B takes me in."

"I'm so sorry."

Tim shrugs. "Old news. Anyway, so I'm Robin for a while, I make friends, Dad wakes up and grounds me, and Stephanie Brown becomes Robin! ...For a week. And then she dies."

"Stephanie Brown?" Dana asks.

"My girlfriend. She's beautiful. So she dies and I re-become Robin while grieving. Jason comes back to life! And tries to kill me, twice, for taking his place. Steph comes back, Kon and Bart, my best friends, die or go missing, and Dad and his wife die, Damian, Bruce's biological son with Talia goddamn Al Ghul, shows up, and attempts to kill me and take the Robin title, and Bruce fired me."

Dana shook her head. "Wow, uh, okay, I'm sorry. The name sounded familiar. That is a lot of tragedy."

Tim laughs a little, hysterical sounding, and shakes his head. "It's okay. Anyway, Jason feels like a dick and helps me out, and gives me a new suit, Red Robin. Kon and Bart come back! Stephanie is Batgirl, and everything is pretty great, even if Dad and Dana are still dead. And I'm on a mission with Kon and Cassie- Wondergirl two, she's important but not relevant to my history really- and I'm disabling a bomb when it goes off and--! I'm here, in this alternate universe. Tadaa."

She nods. "Did you lie about everything?"

"About being Korean or living there? Nope. I sorta fudged some details, and faked some documents, but for the most part I let others assume what they would."

She looked down at her tablet, fingers idly stroking the dark screen. "What about Caroline?"

"Caroline... Oh, oh her. Carry. Uh..." Tim thinks. "...Weird, I know she was Robin, but she wasn't really in my history. Maybe she's from a different universe, too?"

"What?" Dana looked up at him. "No, Caroline. You called yourself that a few times when we- when I was Daniel."

"Oh, oh. I have multiple personality disorder. Caroline isn't here right now, you're talking to Red."

Dana blinked. "How many personalities are in there?"

Tim laughs. "Six. Timothy, Tim, Red, Caroline, Todd, and Alvin."

She nodded for what felt like the millionth time. "When you first met me, and then again as Dana, was that, you know, you? Do you always act the same?"

"Well, no. You met Tim when you were Daniel. That first school day Timothy felt safer, since we didn't want to subject anyone to Tim. Tim's an ass."

"I liked Tim." She said. "Tim was funny."

"He says that's the nicest thing anyone has said about him while sober."

"That's kind of sad." She shifts how she's sitting so that she's entirely on the couch. "But, back to your story. Do you know if you'll be able to leave here? Or will it have to be the same conditions? Or- or are you stuck?"

Tim shrugs. "We're looking into it. Timothy, Alvin and I anyway. We're the ones who're good at electronics. Tim can mock up documents and lie without batting an eye, but he's sorta... useless, for recon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter is too long to be posted alongside this one, so here


	4. Tim does have emotions! And also a thing for motorcycles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim giggles loudly and runs the handheld vacuum cleaner over a speck of dust, laughing to himself about it. "Vroooooom."
> 
> Terry absentmindedly snaps a few pictures as he walks, and even captures a video of Tim mumbling, and he switches off the two large vacuum cleaners.
> 
> Tim sort-of notices the whirring get quieter, but he doesn't investigate, continuing to play with his handheld vacuum. "Vroom, vroom..."

When Tim learns that he has no way to go home, no way to get back to the people he knows and loves- not counting Terry and D and Max and- Tim locks himself in an apartment he'd bought about 4 months ago, holing away and crying, eating tubs of icecream and watching soap operas like he did when he'd been fired. After 3 days, he goes out, buys 2 6-packs of vodka, a case of wine, and a few beers, and drinks himself into a stupor. He's really happy and weird when he's drunk, and this is no exception, he'd bought 2 large vacuum cleaners and one handheld one, and has turned them all on while attempting to clean Terry's apartment. He's drank most of the wine, all of the beer, and has 3 1/2 vodka bottles left. He takes another swig of the half-empty bottle in his hand, giggling.

Terry had gone to school without Tim for the fourth day in a row, and was only stopping by the apartment to make sure Matt got home safe, set out some food for the kid and his mom, and grab his batsuit. Instead of Matt, he finds the loud whirring of two vacuum cleaners (neither of which the one his mother owns) and the soft virring of a handheld vacuum. And Tim, on his couch, hot and giggling and blushing and drinking. What?

Tim giggles loudly and runs the handheld vacuum cleaner over a speck of dust, laughing to himself about it. "Vroooooom."

Terry absentmindedly snaps a few pictures as he walks, and even captures a video of Tim mumbling, and he switches off the two large vacuum cleaners.

Tim sort-of notices the whirring get quieter, but he doesn't investigate, continuing to play with his handheld vacuum. "Vroom, vroom..."

Terry slowly tugs the three bottles of vodka away, watching Tim closely. He's a bit weirded out and kind of scared, but also five percent attracted, which is a bad idea because Tim is drunk and he doesn't want to do something Tim doesn't want.

Tim doesn't really notice the alcohol leaving, just taking a quick swig of his vodka and continuing to mumble. He pushes a button to make his vacuum louder.

Terry puts his hand on Tim's, the one on the handle of the handheld vacuum cleaner. "Tim?"

Tim pauses, and glances up at- ooh, muscles. Terry. Tim drops the vacuum, and turns so he can bury his face in Terry's chest.

Terry bends over to turn off the vacuum, and finds himself with a lot of Tim pressed against him. "Uh, Tim? You okay?"

Tim giggles. He curls the arm not holding his vodka around Terry's back and nuzzles him. "Vroom."

"Yeah." Terry sighs, curling a hand in Tim's hair. "Vroom."

Tim continues giggling. "Hiiiiii. Vroom, vroom."

"Hey, Tim. You still in there?"

"Mmhmm~"

"Wanna go somewhere with me?" Terry decides that this is also Bruce's problem.

Tim nods a little. He hugs Terry a bit. "Vroom vroom?"

"Bruce gave me a bike, if you can handle it."

Tim pulls back immediately, face lighting up. "Vroom vroom!"

"You'll need to hold on to me. Can you?"

Tim snorts. And then he latches onto Terry with both arms and both legs.

"Tim, Red, I can't drive with you on me like that." Terry sighs.

Tim snorts. "You asked if I could hold onto you. I'm capable." He lets go, and hugs his vodka to his chest.

Terry dropped his bag in his room, and grabbed the keys to the bike Bruce had given him a while before. "Ready?"

Tim nods, standing up and wandering out toward the door. He walks almost with the same sort of grace he does normally.

Terry sighed as he follows him. "Are you perfect with everything you do?"

"I've trained for years to be as perfect as humanly possible. And then some."

Terry shook his head, going for the elevator. "Wow."

"It's only natural. Bruce required it. I was supposed to train myself out of getting Black-out drunk, but I never really felt like it."

"What? You- you can't train yourself not to get drunk." Terry rolls his eyes. "That's not a thing."

"You can train yourself to have a higher and higher tolerance, and with certain drugs and physical alterations it can be achieved." Tim smiled brightly. "But I never really felt like it."

"Tim, those are all just- it's part of life to get drunk and stupid."

"What am I doing right now? Although, I guess I'm not capable of being stupid."

"You *were* sitting with three vacuum cleaners on."

Tim snorts. "Things that go vroom just do it for me. Also muscles. Muscles are *great*." He winks.

"Ha, bet you're used to getting your rocks off all the time. I've heard a lot of good things about the muscles, y'know, back in the day."

"I'm too drunk to figure out what that was supposed to mean, but okay." Tim takes a swig of his vodka.

Terry rolled his eyes and stepped out of the elevator. "Anyways, you got any problem wih seeing the old man?"

"Brucie is Brucie and I love him." Tim smiles.

"Okay, let's just get going, Red."

Tim smiles brightly, and motions for Terry to lead the way.

Terry gets out of the lobby, and finds his bike and slides onto it. "Get on behind me."

Tim makes a barely-concealed squeal. He slides on, practically melting against the seat and Terry's back.

"Hold on tight, okay?" Terry hands him a helmet. "And put this on."

Tim slips it on, and wraps his arms tightly around Terry's torso. He presses himself as close as he can to Terry's back, both because it'll keep him on the bike and because *he's drunk*.

The feel of Tim behind him is really, really nice and a bit distracting, but Terry takes a deep breath and starts the bike up.

Tim moans quietly at the feeling of the motor humming to life. He presses himself closer to Terry's back.

Terry hopes he can concentrate on the road as he starts maneuvering through the streets towards Wayne manor. Who knew he'd have memorized the way there after just five years?

Tim might or might not be drooling. He will deny it later, his drunk self has no self-control or mind-to-mouth filter. And god, do Motorcycles do it for him.

It takes a very long twenty minutes for Terry to reach Wayne manor, and another six to get Tim off of the bike. "C'mon, please?"

Tim whines. He clings to the bike a little. He never wants to leave the bike.

"Timmy, please?"

Tim whines more. But he gets up, hugging his vodka to his chest and pouting.

"Thank you." He starts walking, hoping TIm will get the memo to be close to him and actually follow him.

Tim follows a few feet behind Terry, taking a swig of his vodka and grumbling about leaving the vroom.

Terry finds Bruce with only slightly less difficulty than keeping Tim off the bike. "Hey, old man, you got a panic room I can borrow? Tim's drunk. Really drunk."

Tim giggles. "'m not drunk yet. You're drunk."

Bruce nods. "In the cave, the door is near the waterfall. It will automatically lock, but it has water and food and bedding to last as long as you need." Terry nodded and turned.

Tim snorts. He waves at Bruce, and follows Terry. "Bye, Brucie~"

Bruce frowns. "I haven't been Brucie in a long time."

"You're always Brucie, duh." Tim rolls his eyes.

Terry pauses in the doorway. Bruce shakes his head. "No, Brucie died years ago."

"You might have abandoned him, but Brucie is still part of you. He can't die that easily, Bruce." Tim's smile disappears. He just gives Bruce a look, rather than glaring, but.

"Brucie died when I got old, Tim. Brucie is young and pretty and stupid, none of which are things that I can be anymore."

Tim frowns. "Age hasn't taken your beauty or your charisma away from you. All you've done is let bitterness cloud your judgment. Maybe getting drunk would help you out, for once."

After a tense nod from Bruce and a lot of walking, Terry stands in front of the panic room. He opens the door and ushers Tim inside, then steps in after him and starts looking through the cabinets and wall panels. He easily finds a small fridge/freezer, water, a pantry, surprisingly large stove, and microwave, and the wall with only thick comforters and fleece blankets is much appreciated and soon emptied. "You hungry, Tim?"

Tim has found a stash of wine, gin, and a single vodka bottle. He could eat, but *alcohol*.

When there's no response, Terry sees the alcohol, and sighs. He takes the gin and vodka for himself, because fuck it.

Tim grabs the vodka back, and curls around it and the wine with a low hiss.

"You already have vodka, Tim." He points at the half-empty bottle. "You had half a six pack. Please?"

"I had a full six pack and another two and a half bottles. Vodka is my favorite." He growls.

"Tim, please stop. That's too much, we aren't here to get you more drunk, we're here to sober you up and cuddle and hide from the outside world. Give me the vodka."

Tim downs his half-bottle and shakes his head. "I'm getting drunk for a reason, and I'm not giving up this vodka for anything. There's nothing you could say or do to make me give it up." He huffs, holding it close to his chest.

Terry bites his lip. "What do you want? What can I offer you? You have pretty much everything, and most of what I could give you would just be left here when you go home."

Tim's eyes widen a little, at the mention of home, and his face crumples. And then he tips his head back and chugs about half the vodka bottle he'd been in the process of opening.

Terry doesn't understand what he said, what he did wrong. His shoulders slump and he turns toward the kitchenette to make some scrambled eggs or something. Somehow, there are fresh eggs and milk and cheese. He doesn't question it.

Once the alcohol numbs his brain a bit more, he manages to squash the need to cry. Just don't think about home, or Bruce or Dick or- more alcohol is needed. The vodka bottle is empty too quickly.

"Do you want any food?" Terry asks again, voice slightly hoarse from chugging a third of the first gin bottle.

Tim wipes his face on a sleeve and struggles to open his first wine bottle. "Mmhmm."

"Eggs fine?" Terry sips the booze again.

Tim nods a little. He manages to open the wine, and takes a swig. "Yeah." He was usually much more happy, when he was drunk. But now that Terry reminded him why he'd wanted to get drunk in the first place he couldn't forget it. Damn.

"Got it." Terry gets to work on scrambling and cooking the eggs. "Are you okay?"

"I told you I was gettin' drunk for a reason. An' then you went and reminded me of it, so I can't block it out anymore."

"How did I remind you of it? I didn't say anything."

"You talked about home. There's no way back, there's now way to engineer a way back. I'm stuck here and I can't even get a message back home."

Terry froze, turning around. He wants to panic, but he can't, because Tim isn't panicking, he's just getting drunk and probably crying. "Tim- I- come here. I'm so sorry."

Tim wipes his face and hugs his wine. He doesn't feel like moving. He just wants to drink and drink until he forgets or until his liver fails and he dies.

Terry realizes that Tim won't move, and crosses the room to him and wraps his arms around him. "I'm so sorry."

Tim sniffles, and leans into the touch. He sips at his wine, and sighs.

"I don't know how we'll find you a way home, but, we won't give up, Tim, okay? I am so sorry." The smell of burning egg starts up behind him, but he ignores it.

Tim wipes his face. "If you don't stop the eggs from catching fire we'll probably die."

Terry turns around and turns the stove off, dumping the pan and eggs into the sink and turning on the water to wash away the smell. "Tim- lets just get your mind off of everything. Okay?"

"By doing what? I'd managed 4 hours ago with 8 vodka bottles, 4 wine bottles, and 3 beers. And three vacuum cleaners I don't remember buying. I can't do that again, we don't have any in here."

"I don't know what to do, I'm just really confused and distracted by your lips and I want you to be okay. And the part of me that wants more gin wants to kiss you but- but you're drunk and upset and this is a bad time." Terry rakes a hand through his hair.

Tim blinks. And then he grins, turning a sly smirk up at Terry. "Kissing sounds like a great idea. I dare you to."

"W-what?" Terry blushes, hand still in his hair. "What do you mean, you dare me to?"

"C'mon, do it. I double-dog-dare you to kiss me."

Terry hesitated. The last time he'd been dared by anyone, it'd been Big Time and he'd been about fourteen. "I- are you sure?"

Tim sighs. "Duh. But if you're chicken I guess I could rig up a mini-motor or something with parts of a toaster and a blender."

"No- I, I can do it." Terry took a deep breath and hesitated again. This was harder than facing off with the Joker.

Tim simply sat still, waiting. He blinked. His contacts were messing with him.

Terry, after what felt like a million years, crossed the room to Tim again, hand moving to hover by his face.

Tim moved so he could press his cheek into Terry's hand. He blinks again, and waits.

Terry breathes out, staring at Tim's eyes, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips. "Tim," he whispers before slowly leaning down and pressing their lips together.

Tim sighs into the kiss, and leans into it.

It's slow and sweet before Terry decides it would be a great idea to flick his tongue out across Tim's bottom lip, then decides he wants to taste that particular mix of Tim and alcohol further, and sucks at Tim's bottom lip.

Tim decides, as he's registering Terry's tongue on his lips, that he's waited as long as his extremely drunk being is willing to wait, and tangles his hands in Terry's hair. He sort-of shoves his tongue down Terry's throat, too, but hey.

Terry gasps, hands both wandering down to wrap around Tim's waist. The hands in his hair are nice and strong, and he's glad he has as much hair as he does, because wow, does it being pulled feel nice.

Tim rolls his hips, groaning into the kiss.

Terry blushes a bit, moaning into the kiss and squeezing Tim's hips. He hopes that Tim doesn't bruise, because just the idea of the bruises is making him roll his hips into Tim as well.

Tim knows he'll probably bruise, but the idea of bruises that are clearly from fingers digging into his hips is actually really hot. Drunk Tim is a genius.

Terry tries to take a step back, but ends up tripping on a blanket and falls backwards, landing hard on his back in the nest of blankets.

If Tim were not drunk, he would have had no trouble staying standing. But he is drunk, very drunk, and so he ends up falling with Terry, and landing on top of the taller male, between his legs. Tim blinks.

Terry blushes, and starts mumbling apologies for falling, his hands finding Tim's waist under his shirt.

Tim just grins. "Fancy running into you, here." He snickers.

Terry, after a beat, pushes his hands down to lightly palm at Tim's ass. "Yeah, way schway coincidence."

Tim laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners with mirth. "t's awesome. Best thing to happen tonight."

"It is?" Terry asks, hopeful.

Tim nods. "The motorcycle's a close second. Wasn't as beautiful as my Redbird, I miss her."

Terry nodded, and leans up to kiss at Tim's neck tentatively.

Tim purrs. He moves so Terry has better access, humming.

Having the go-ahead, Terry starts to suck and scrape his teeth against the pretty, soft skin.

Tim hums even louder. That's the spot.

Terry rubs circles absentmindedly on Tim's lower back, putting most of his focus on the hickey. His pants are starting to get tight, and he's definitely wearing too much clothing.

Tim is really digging how this is going, but he needs some sort of alcohol or food in his system before he crashes. But god those teeth feel great.

Terry doesn't get a memo to stop, and starts to pepper kisses up Tim's throat and jaw to kiss him on the lips again.

After about two minutes, Tim passes out. He hasn't eaten since the day before and hasn't slept in 3 days.

Terry notices that Tim passed out as his body slumps, and immediately backs off, rolling Tim off of him. He also, after a few seconds, decides to remove both of their shoes and some of their layers. When he's satisfied that Tim is comfortable-looking, he pulls blankets around them and tried to sleep too.

Tim snores softly in his not-sleep. He's gonna feel like hell when he wakes up, he should not have slept while wearing contacts.


End file.
